


Salvation

by grrrranjolras



Series: Shatter Me AU [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Eventual Enjolras/Grantaire, Eventual Smut, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Shatter Me AU, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3378350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grrrranjolras/pseuds/grrrranjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Shatter Me AU no one asked for, but I'm writing anyways. Knowledge of the series is not necessary.</p>
<p>“You’re getting a <s>cellmate</s> roommate.”</p>
<p>The words are so unexpected that I nearly fall. They rarely speak and when they do, it’s never something you want to hear.</p>
<p>“For good behavior.”</p>
<p>Misbehaving in here will get you killed. There is no other behavior to exhibit if you want to stay alive and despite my miserable existence and the guilt that courses through me every second of every day, I want to live. There was a time when I didn’t. Sometimes I still feel like I don’t deserve to, but I can’t help but want it.</p>
<p>“<s>Another psycho like you</s>. No more isolation.”</p>
<p>The men speaking through the slot in my door are members of The Reestablishment. A organization that was supposed to be our salvation. They had a plan to save us and our world. If the ashen view through my tiny window is any indication, they haven’t delivered on their promises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> No knowledge of The Juliette Chronicles is necessary to understand this AU. The first few chapters will remain close to the plot of the first book, but I plan on moving things away from it after that. c: I hope to make this into a three part series and may do two short interludes.
> 
> TW for slight disassociation? I'm not sure. The strike through text is an interesting aspect of the original series and something that I'd like to keep. As Grantaire's character develops, the strikes will become less frequent.
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](http://grrranjolras.tumblr.com)

I have been locked up for 367 days. My only worldly possessions are this notebook, a broken pen, and the clothing that I’ve been wearing since I got here. Words and numbers are the only things that ground me anymore. Sometimes I feel so out of touch that I worry I’m losing my mind.

“You’re getting a ~~cellmate~~ roommate.”

The words are so unexpected that I nearly fall. They rarely speak and when they do, it’s never something you want to hear.

“For good behavior.”

Misbehaving in here will get you killed. There is no other behavior to exhibit if you want to stay alive and despite my miserable existence and the guilt that courses through me every second of every day, I want to live. There was a time when I didn’t. Sometimes I still feel like I don’t deserve to, but I can’t help but want it.

“ ~~Another psycho like you~~. No more isolation.”

The men speaking through the slot in my door are members of The Reestablishment. A organization that was supposed to be our salvation. They had a plan to save us and our world. If the ashen view through my tiny window is any indication, they haven’t delivered on their promises.

I was very young when everything started to go downhill. Bombs and viruses and global warming. They’ve decimated what used to be a beautiful planet, if the pictures in our storybooks and textbooks were real. I don’t remember much from then, but I do remember more green than I can see through the scum covered glass. The air wasn’t so heavy back then, either.

I still hadn’t responded when they shoved the bowl of gray sludge they called oatmeal through the slot in the door. I didn’t know what to say to the people who’d torn me from the only ~~prison~~ home I’d ever known. I don’t know where I am. All I know is that they drove a long way to get here and I was handcuffed to my seat the entire time. They were afraid of what I could do and what I’d already done, though I can hardly blame them. I’m afraid of myself. 

~~My parents didn’t bother to say goodbye.~~

After I’ve choked down the oatmeal, I pick up my pen, but for the first times in ages, words don’t come to me. I am preoccupied.

Maybe having a cellmate won’t be so bad. Having another human being around will ease some of the loneliness I’ve been drowning in since they isolated me. I will have someone to speak to.

I part my lips and try to whisper. My voice is painful with disuse.  
  
I practice all day and well into the night.

\---------------------

I awake to the sound of the metal door screeching across the concrete floors of my cell and I immediately panic before remembering their promise of company.I am surprised, however, when my new cellmate calmly enters on his own instead of being manhandled in. He looks too clean to have been here long.

I am impressed by his stoicism. I’d fought them with everything I’d had and had given them a run for their money. Their fear of touching me made things easier until they pulled out their batons.

The door closes and locks behind him and everything I’d rehearsed dries up on my tongue. His skin is dark and his weary eyes are obscured by horn rimmed glasses. What I’d mistaken for calm was actually tightly controlled tension that I could now see in the line of his shoulders.

He was afraid of me and I wondered briefly if he knew.

“You’re clean.” I said, my voice rasping painfully.

When he failed to respond, I continued my appraisal. Intricate designs decorated what I could see of his arms. Anatomical diagrams of moths and other insects, it looked like. A scientific equation here and there. Latin words.

He was intelligent. That much seemed obvious, though perhaps I shouldn’t make assumptions about people based solely on what they’ve chosen to decorate their body with. Any moron with a science book could have pointed out the pictures.

A moment passed and then the fear in his eyes shifted to something more akin to anger and determination.

“You’re the one they’re always talking about. ~~You’re insane~~. The one they’ve kept isolated since you got here. ~~Alone, alone, alone~~. Why?”

So he doesn’t know.

I am not inclined to tell him.

“They think I’m dangerous.” I answer instead. It’s the truth.

“Are you?”

~~Yes~~.  
  
“No.”

He seems to accept the answer with a grain of salt and slides down the wall furthest from me. I’d taken the cot from that side of the room and pushed it together with mine the second night I’d been here. I guess I’d have to give it back.

We’re quiet and appraising for a few more minutes. The silence is agony and then he finally speaks.

“Why haven’t you asked why I’m here?”

I honestly hadn’t even thought about it. His presence was such a relief, though it brought with it anxieties of its own. I suppose I should have considered that another human being in this place meant that he’d also done something beyond forgiveness. Beyond jail.

“Seems like a second date kind of thing, doesn’t it?” I reply with a wry smile.

He frowns and doesn’t answer me. It seems we’re falling into a pattern.

Slowly, I stand and separate the two cots, careful not to made any sudden movements. I don’t want to startle him.

He stands when I’ve pushed the cot far enough across the small space for it to touch his legs and motions for me to stop.

I was right about his intelligence.

“That’s far enough. Just… Just stay over there.”

I nod and climb back onto my own dingy mattress, drawing my knees up to my chin as I watch him push the cot the rest of the way against the wall. He settles on it with his back to the wall once more. So he can watch me, I suppose.

He’s probably dangerous. But he’s also ~~gorgeous~~ kind. I can tell by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes and the shadows of dimples in his cheeks. He’s had a life full of laughter. I wonder what he's done to end up here.

We spend the rest of the day in silence and at night he doesn’t sleep.


End file.
